An Honest Living
by L. Sorren
Summary: A lone weapons merchant comes to Falconreach in hopes of selling his merchandise. What happens when a gang of bandits captures him, minds on robbery and murder?


The arms dealer came to Falconreach with the thought of selling his wares in a land that did not know his reputation for carrying cheap, useless product.

The second he entered the city, his heart died a quiet death. It seemed that there was a weapons dealer on every corner: whether it be the lady at the inn, the blacksmith on the side street, or the odd, slightly luminescent shop guarded by a hefty man in green.

Pulling a young boy aside (a scrappy thing with a simple sword that was almost as long as he was), he asked if any in the town was in need of cheap, solid weaponry.

"_Err_… well, everyone gets stuff from around town and other cities nearby. Weaker guys buy from Serenity, guys with Dragon Coins from Cysero…" Thoroughly lost, the arms dealer thanked him and made his way glumly to the Inn, where he rented a room.

The brown-haired boy had told him all he needed to know: Falconreach had no need for another weapons merchant. He should move on.

Spending a melancholy evening in the Inn's alehouse (accompanied by some very odd-looking fighters) afforded him time to think. He would see if he could gain enough capital to make a journey to the next town. Maybe the place they called Amityvale, or the remote Sandsea, though both seemed dangerous. The way he figured it, danger attracted heroes looking to make a name for themselves: maybe those people also needed weapons as well.

The next day, unhopeful but determined to try, he checked out of the Inn and stepped in the sunlight with renewed purpose. Though he felt ridiculous, he stood on the corner, hawking his wares and getting nothing except sneers and laughter in return. These heroes were a tough crowd to be sure, and wouldn't suffer a foreigner like him on their turf. At most, he got a few polite encounters but no purchases.

He walked toward the edge of town, ignoring a sudden scuffle to his right.

Then he got hit with the flat edge of a sword.

* * *

He woke in a small hut surrounded by rough looking men. They were brazenly going through his bag of goods, talking loudly amongst themselves. With a splitting headache and cracked lip, the captured merchant wheezed, "Please be careful with that…"

The largest man looked at him as the tent hushed. Drawing a dark, spiked club, he squatted in front of the incapacitated man, holding the weapon threateningly in front of his nose. The merchant gulped air as cold sweat ran down his back. The large bandit spoke. "Yeah? And why should we be careful with this crap? I doubt these weapons would be good enough to heard sheep with, much less combat high and mighty heroes! We're just trying to make an honest living, y'know. Isn't that right boys?"

There were shouts of assent from all sides. The leader turned back to his victim. "We attacked you thinking you had something worthwhile. I see now that that is not the case! I suppose the boys should take out their frustrations on your hide!"

"Clearly," the arms dealer spoke as quickly as he could, raising his voice to hide the muffled shouts from outside, "Clearly, you men have no eye for quality. My weapons are the best you'll find, I promise you."

They hesitated. Then, the bandit leader hauled him to his feet. "I think I'll start by cutting that lying little tongue outta your head."

"Uh, you don't want to do that!"

"Why?"

The merchant pointed as best he could with his hands tied. A warrior standing behind the bandits grinned, hefted his sword, and attacked like the wrath of the gods.

* * *

"Thanks very much for saving me!" The merchant realized that he was a step away from outright groveling, but he was too relieved to care.

"Don't worry about it. I come here often, do a little bounty hunting on the side. These guys will fetch me a tidy sum; need it too! I'm just starting out as a hero, and I barely have money to buy any decent weaponry."

"You don't, do you? Well, once you collect your bounty, come see me at the Inn. I'll sell you my weapons for a discounted price."

In the end, the arms dealer sold his wares for roughly 600 gold, seeing no reason to mention that, all told, the weapons were worth about a quarter of that.

"Sorry, warrior…" he murmured as he left town with an empty pack and heavy purse. "I'm just trying to make an honest living…y'know?"


End file.
